Page 99 of An Eye for an Eye
William Hague entered the fray. He gripped the dispatch box and, looking directly at the government benches said, ‘While congratulating the Foreign Secretary on this historic agreement, may I remind the House that it was Margaret Thatcher who opened these negotiations …’
Cheers and jeers in equal measure emanated from both sides of the chamber.
CHAPTER 28
DURING THE NEXT FEW DAYS,Ross had assumed the Hawk would summon him to his office at a moment’s notice to tell him he’d had a call from an outraged QC who was demanding an explanation as to why one of the Met’s senior officers had been attempting to bribe one of his clients while he was out on parole. Ross accepted if this were to happen, it would be him and not Mumford who would be looking at an arrest warrant, and this time it would already have been signed by a local magistrate. But the summons hadn’t come.
As soon as he sat down at his desk on Monday morning, Ross gave the local police at Little Hampton a call to check that Billy had reported – on time – for his weekly probation meeting. He had, the desk sergeant confirmed, which gave Ross some confidence that Mumford was keeping to his side of the bargain. It didn’t stop him lying awake at night.
The next morning, he left the flat before Alice and Jojo had woken, closed the front door quietly, climbed into his car and headed for the Great North Road. This time Ross haddecided – once the exchange had taken place – that he would be travelling on to Bucklebury and then Heathrow. He wouldn’t have a moment to spare if he still hoped to be on time for his flight.
When he drove into Little Hampton three hours later, he was already running a few minutes late, so didn’t waste any time admiring the Norman tower. He parked his car outside the pub, grabbed his briefcase, and immediately went into the Dog and Duck.
When he entered the pub, it was as if time had stood still. At the bar were the same locals sipping the same ale, who this time didn’t even bother to give him a second look. Ross only had to glance around the snug to see Billy was sitting at his usual table, but this time there was no sign of theYorkshire Post– just the copy ofMonticelloand a large brown envelope, accompanied by a smug smile on his face.
Ross took the seat opposite his unaware accomplice, who wasted no time in passing over the envelope, the smile remaining in place.
Ross could feel his heart beating as he pulled open the flap and slowly extracted a single sheet of paper and a small faded cream envelope addressed in black handwriting to the Rt Hon. David Hartley MP, Hartley Hall, Bucklebury, England.
He turned to page 171 of Rosenberg’sMonticellobefore he began to study the letter. After making a comparison between Jefferson’s script and Mumford’s forgery, he had to admit he couldn’t tell the difference between them. Billy had earned his reputation as a master forger.
Ross placed the envelope, the letter and his copy ofMonticelloback in the briefcase before he extracted another arrest warrant, which also hadn’t been countersigned by a local magistrate. But before Billy could take a closer look, he onceagain tore it to shreds, dropping the little pieces back in his briefcase.
‘Now listen and listen carefully,’ said Ross, as he stood up and peered down at his accomplice, ‘if you don’t want to go back to the Scrubs, this meeting never took place. Don’t even think about contacting Booth Watson or sharing our little secret with anyone else, because if you do—’
‘It wouldn’t even cross my mind, Mr Hogan,’ said Billy. ‘Not a word, I promise, to anyone.’
Ross closed his briefcase and said, ‘Let’s hope we never meet again.’
‘The feeling’s mutual, Mr Hogan,’ said Mumford.
Ross quickly left the pub and got back into his car, ready to set off on the second part of the triangle.
Before he turned on the ignition, Ross couldn’t resist opening the briefcase once again and taking another look at the letter. Nothing had changed, except that he was running late. He switched on the engine, and quickly made his way out of the village. As the miles ticked over on the journey back along the motorway, Ross began to think about just how much he would tell Lady Hartley and, equally importantly, how much he would leave unsaid. No more than necessary, he decided, and rehearsed his script several times before he arrived outside the gates that led up to Hartley Hall.
The beautiful Elizabethan mansion looked far more welcoming than a rundown pub in Little Hampton, and the warm greeting he received from Lady Hartley couldn’t have been in greater contrast to the monosyllabic grunt he’d got from the landlord of the Dog and Duck.
Ross had heard on the news that Simon Hartley was back in England and even wondered if he might be staying with his mother. It was a relief to discover he wasn’t.
Once he had settled in the drawing room – he admired the watercolours, particularly the Russell Flint – and been offered a welcome cup of tea and a shortbread biscuit, he ventured, ‘You may be wondering why I asked to see you again, Lady Hartley.’
‘I assumed it must have something to do with the auction that’s being held in New York tomorrow and the missing letter I foolishly gave to …’ She paused mid-sentence.
‘You’re quite right,’ said Ross, not wasting a moment. He opened his briefcase, took out the large brown envelope and extracted Mumford’s copy of the letter, which he handed over to her.
The old lady’s hands began to tremble as she read it. ‘How clever of you, Inspector,’ said Lady Hartley. ‘I had assumed he’d destroyed it,’ once again not mentioning Faulkner by name, ‘and that I would never see the letter again.’
‘Are you absolutely sure that is the letter you gave him, Lady Hartley?’ asked Ross.
‘It has to be,’ said Lady Hartley. ‘I remember my husband repeating it word for word. But may I ask you a question?’
‘Of course,’ said Ross.
‘Does this mean …?’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Ross replied, before she could complete the sentence.
‘Then we ought to be opening a bottle of champagne to celebrate,’ said Lady Hartley, ‘whereas all I can offer you is another cup of tea.’ She picked up the teapot.